Breaking Sky

by Cori McCarthy

  Oh, so they were going to exchange flirty compliments now. Chase bit back her smile and felt a door open in that moment, something between them that had its own breeze. “Because I’m so legendary, tell me what happened before we raced. When you fell behind.” Tristan looked away, but she kept going. “You’re not flying like yourself. I might not have watched tapes of your style, but I’ve seen enough to know you have a natural tilt to your wings.”

  “It wastes fuel,” he said automatically.

  “It’s you. Don’t fight how you fly.”

  “Is that a piece of your wisdom?”

  “That’s the whole cake, Tristan,” she said. He held off a laugh, and she wanted to ask why. “Is it nerves? Are you remembering JAFA up there?”

  “Yes…but I’m getting a hold on it. It won’t throw me off again. I think.”

  “You should chase a ghost. That’s what I do,” she said. “Although, I shouldn’t call him a ghost because he isn’t dead. Not yet.” The ease with which her father came up shocked her into continuing. “Kale says I fly like Tourn.” She shook her head. “Christ, I have no idea why I tell you things. I swear I leak truth around you.”

  “I’m a third party. It’s easier to talk to people who are on the outside.”

  “Maybe.” She looked down Phoenix’s narrow engine bay. It reminded her of Crackers’s heart circle or trust circle or whatever the woman had called it. Chase still wondered how they could be interchangeable. Love was one thing—a fluffy Easter bunny sort of thing—but trust was real and rare, and she believed in it. Did she trust Tristan? Could she? She barely knew him.

  The question reminded her that she had one more confession. “I also wanted to apologize for kissing you in the locker room the other day. I wasn’t making a play.”

  He finger-combed his hair back, and the shorter pieces broke free, brushing his cheeks. “I get that you wanted to surprise me. And you did that much.”

  “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Especially with everyone saying that we’re…that I’m going after you.” God, this was a terrible topic.

  “Who is everyone exactly?”

  “Riot,” she started. “Sylph and Pippin. Kale…all the cadets who saw us spar.”

  “That really is everyone.”

  “You’re the one who rolled on top of me for like ten minutes.” Her ears warmed as she remembered what it had been like to be under him, his breath wild on her neck. She held her hands over her cheeks, trying to block his view of her flush. A little late, she got the impression he was reading her body language negatively.

  “I’m under no illusions, Chase. I suspect that’s why you don’t like me.”

  She stared at his eyes. Flame blue and so steady. “I never said I didn’t like you.”

  “Is this what you do to someone you like?” He pulled up his shirt and showed off his stomach. Beyond being ripped, it was covered with purple bruises.

  “Whoa. Sorry.”

  He dropped his shirt but held her eyes. “Do you know what helped me get my nerves in check in the air the other day?” he asked in a low voice. “Chasing you.”

  “I am aptly named.”

  He grinned. “How often do you get to use that joke?”

  “Not enough.” She took her dog tags off and wrapped the chain around her wrist. “I’m glad I could help you up there.” It was no use; no matter where she looked, the air was growing heavier. She could feel his eyes endlessly pulling at her. She forced a laugh. “With this much tension, we really will put on a good show for the government board. Don’t you think?”

  “What I think?” He took her dog tags and ran his fingers over the imprint of her name. “I think about what will happen after the trials if Ri Xiong Di doesn’t back down. It’s all I can think about. What about you?”

  “I don’t,” she lied instinctively. She stole her dog tags and jumped down the stairs. It had felt good to open up to him until this moment. If he was going to start talking about the Second Cold War, she was done.

  “See you later, Arrow.” She felt herself flee inside even as she jogged out of the hangar. Guns, missiles, dogfights. Bombs.

  Death.

  That’s what would happen if they couldn’t find a way to make Ri Xiong Di back down. That’s what was on the other side of the trials. The sheer fact that this was not a game.

  24

  BOOLA-BOOLA

  The Call for Bringing Down a Drone

  The sky was an old friend. Chase spiraled through a thick cloud and into the wisp-blue of high altitude. The week hadn’t been kind. Not after a mild concussion and a fight that lingered in every word she shared with her RIO. “Ready for a little heat, Pippin?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. No snappy words. No joke.

  She punched the throttle, imagining Dragon’s fiery wake. Whenever she thought about her midnight smackdown with Pippin, she felt some sort of spiky creature reposition itself in her chest. She was dying to let it out, but Pippin’s stringent lack of eye contact proved that to be impossible.

  So she focused on flying. The trials were in less than two months—she had to focus.

  “How’s the weight?” Pippin asked through the amped volume of their helmet mics.

  “The weight?”

  “The missiles, Nyx.”

  Chase wobbled left and right, testing out the latest wrench thrown into the Streaker pilots’ training: deactivated missiles snuggled beneath her wings. “The drag is mild, but I still can’t imagine firing them.”

  “You’ve got to learn how to aim first.”

  As if on cue, Phoenix shot up from behind. Dragon’s warning alarm blared through the cockpit. Chase punched it off and flipped on the shortwave radio. “We got it, Arrow! You know how to get us under missile lock. Give me a chance to work this out!”

  “I thought Nyx was supposed to be the fun one,” Romeo responded. “She’s complaining like Sylph these days.”

  “I am on the same frequency, you punk,” Sylph growled over the channel. Pegasus pulled up from a thick cloud and chased Phoenix across the horizon.

  Sylph had about as much luck as Chase in getting Phoenix between the crosshairs. Tristan was as fast as ever and executed evasive maneuvers she hadn’t even heard of. What made matters worse—he knew how to engage missile lock while he seemed to be trying to escape. He got Chase twice by hitting the brakes and pulling an inverted loop to maneuver behind her.

  Chase swore under her breath in a long string, but she also kind of loved it. Speed and a solid challenge were exactly what she needed to get her head back into trial preparation.

  Pegasus reappeared without Phoenix. Sylph attempted to get a lock on Chase, but she pulled one of Tristan’s moves—inverting them long enough for Pippin to complain.

  “Warn me next time,” he said. “All the blood is in my face.”

  “What say we take out Sylph?” Chase asked, hoping a common enemy might bring them closer together. Pippin didn’t respond, but Sylph did.

  “We’re taking turns, Nyx,” Sylph ordered over the radio. “Swapping defense and offense. Those are the rules you agreed to.”

  “There won’t be any rules when we’re up against red drones,” Chase pointed out.

  “Indeed,” Pippin said, and that tiny moment of accord blunted her thorny feelings inside.

  Experimenting with more of Tristan’s moves, Chase went after Pegasus. By the time she’d achieved missile lock on Sylph four times, she was feeling much better. Chase fielded Sylph’s protest and agreed to let Pegasus attack in the next round.

  Chase counted down. “One, two—”

  “Three,” Tristan’s voice cut in.

  Phoenix flashed by so fast that Chase took seconds to recover before blazing after him. Sylph vanished from her thoughts as she sped after Tristan. She caught him at Mach 3, streaking over the gree
n glisten of the Great Salt Lake. His low laugh filled the shortwave.

  The two jets spiraled together until Chase went light-headed. When they reached the thinnest layer of atmosphere, Phoenix and Dragon dove in tandem. Tristan broke left, and she swept under him, their metal bodies grazing. Chase couldn’t help wondering what it might feel like to get that close to Tristan without jets. Skin to skin.

  Her body thrummed, so much so that she missed the first emergency beacon lighting up her controls. “What’s the problem, Pippin?”

  “Emergency code from the Star. They’re paging in a satellite link.”

  Chase held her finger over the switch. “But it could be a code virus trying to get control of the flight software.”

  “Is it coming from the Star?” Tristan asked.

  “Yes,” Pippin said. “Unless Ri Xiong Di has figured out how to reroute the signal.”

  “But if it’s home base, and they’re bothering to reach out, this has got to be important.” Chase didn’t wait to deliberate. She flicked the link on, holding her breath and waiting for Dragon’s controls to be overridden.

  Waiting.

  Kale’s voice came instead. “Phoenix and Dragon, get to Pegasus!” He yelled so loudly that Chase’s ears hurt. “Get to Pegasus!”

  “Where is she, Pip?”

  “Balls of fire.” Pippin filled in the coordinates that came over the line. “Sylph’s too far west. Past the coast. She’s over the demarcation line.”

  • • •

  Chase and Tristan flew like a pair of bullets. They reached Mach 4, the world going blurry beneath them long before the silver flash of Pegasus appeared high in the sky.

  A maroon dot caught Chase’s eye. It was too close to Sylph. Too close at every turn.

  “Is that a—”

  “Red drone.” Pippin’s voice cracked. Chase’s speed faltered as her arms shook, pulling back on the throttle.

  “What’s she doing out here?” Pippin asked. “And how’d she pick up that tailer?”

  “You mean, why hasn’t she lost it yet?” Romeo yelled in. “We’re supposed to be way faster than them.”

  “Shut up,” Tristan snapped. “What are we doing, Nyx?” She tightened when he said her call sign, her whole body tuning in. He was deferring to her, asking for her lead, which was kind of shocking.

  “Sylph’s too slow. She won’t be able to break away, and she won’t bring the drone over land.”

  “She can’t,” Pippin said. “We don’t want that thing anywhere near civilians.”

  “It’d be nice if these freakin’ missiles under our wings were more than ornamental,” Romeo said. “If that thing scans one of the Streakers…”

  “Oh, God!” It was Riot, close enough to pipe through the shortwave feed. “Help us!”

  “Sylph!” Chase cried out. “Say your state!”

  “Low fuel.” Sylph gasped. “This thing has locked on me over and over. I keep shaking him, but I can’t outstrip him. I can’t even focus! Why is it so fast?!”

  “Nyx.” Tristan’s voice was cool as glass. “What’s the plan?”

  “Lead her home, Arrow. I’ll lose the drone.”

  “I’m faster,” he argued.

  Chase was a crazed mixture of fear and confidence. “You’re the offensive pilot, which would be great if we were armed. I’ve been trained for defense, remember?”

  “We’ve got this,” Pippin said. “Chase can do it.” They were close enough now to see Sylph’s Streaker clearly, jerking toward the sun and back down.

  The drone was cruelly beautiful, sleek with folded back wings and a narrow nose. Being unmanned, it didn’t need a cockpit, and the effect was a seamless maroon body—and large missiles. Up close, Chase finally understood why the drones were bloodred. Military machines were always camouflaged. Even the Streakers were silver-blue in order to blend into the sky. But not these drones. They were meant to be seen. To be feared.

  Mission accomplished.

  Phoenix broke right, swinging in to meet Sylph just as her frantic voice came over the radio. “Get this bogey off me!”

  “Follow Phoenix,” Chase told Sylph. “He’s going to take you the long way home so they don’t track us.”

  “What about you? That drone is fast, Nyx! Faster than we knew.”

  “Go!”

  Phoenix spun behind Pegasus, washing the drone off course with a burst of speed. Chase drove herself into the drone’s path, letting it grab her heat signal as the other Streakers escaped.

  The twin cannon of their sonic booms resounded through her chest.

  “We don’t have enough fuel to outrun it for long.” Pippin was so calm. Her rock.

  “Okay then. We outfly it right now.”

  Chase sent them past Mach 3…4. Sweat appeared all over her body, and she would have been shaking if gravity weren’t cementing her muscles. The pressure took each breath and drove it back down her throat.

  And still, the drone was only a few hundred feet behind.

  She had to stop it from coming any closer to the western seaboard with those massive missiles. And she could not let it return to Ri Xiong Di after having scanned the Streakers. Her only choice was to make it redline. Make it go so fast it broke itself apart.

  “Nyx! I can’t…I’m graying out!” Pippin cried.

  Chase heard him this time, but she couldn’t back down.

  “I’m sorry.” She shot them faster. Tears bled from the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry!”

  Mach 5 came with a stripping of color. She touched the speed, clung to it. Her whole world turned a white-gray blur. There was a chance—a good one—that this wouldn’t work. That the drone could go as fast as the Streakers. She throttled even farther forward.

  Chase had no idea where they were. All she saw was ocean. She pulled low without letting up on the throttle. Alarms screeched through the cockpit, announcing the drone’s missile lock. Chase shot up just as a missile passed beneath Dragon’s belly.

  “Pippin!” she yelled. “Check six!”

  She prayed that he hadn’t passed out. The pause was too long, but her RIO’s voice returned unevenly. “It’s wobbling. It might. Somersault. Maybe.”

  Maybe wasn’t good enough. Chase went faster. A large marker buoy—a metal tower—bobbed on the horizon, and she went straight for it, only pulling above it at the last second. It paid off. An explosion of orange fire behind her announced that the drone hadn’t cleared the buoy.

  “Boola-boola,” Chase whispered.

  Darkness enveloped her vision, shrinking in. She sucked oxygen, but it didn’t help. “Pippin?” She pulled on the stick to get them some more altitude. To buy some time for her to get her vision back, but it was too late. “Pip?”

  Chase slammed at the controls as the crystal sky and the blue earth swirled, and she fell into a hollow.

  Black.

  Space.

  CHARLIE

  25

  DEADSTICK

  Downed

  Chase woke on stone or ice. It felt like both. She recognized the dense cold air of the hangar with so much relief that she almost cried out.

  “She’s all right,” Kale proclaimed. He put an arm around her shoulders and sat her up. “You’re all right,” he murmured just for her, and the strain in his voice made her hold on to him.

  “Pippin?” she asked.

  “He’s fine. You both went full G-LOC, but your RIO was lucky enough to engage the autopilot before he lost consciousness. He came out of it a few minutes ago. They’re walking him down to the infirmary.”

  She vaguely remembered trying to punch the controls—to do what Pippin had managed—but it felt like her brain wasn’t plugged in to her body. She blinked at the hangar, and the scene blinked back like a black-and-white film. “I’m still seeing gray.”

  “Oxyge
n starved. You may faint again if you stand.” Kale threw commands to the ground crew staring down at her, finishing with, “And someone get a stretcher!”

  “No stretcher.” She tried to stand, and Kale pressed her to his chest. He smelled like coffee, and he felt different this close. Safe—and yet a firm reminder of what had almost happened. Chase squeezed her eyes and saw the drone’s missile breeze by. She twitched with the remains of her much-depleted adrenaline. Where was her jet?

  “Dragon?”

  “She’s going to need some fixing. Skidded out on the landing—autopilot was never designed to set down. I’ll get Adrien on it.” He swore. “It could have been so much worse, but we’ll worry about that later. You’re a hero for the moment, Harcourt.” Kale’s words fell on her like a blanket, and she ached to close her eyes and tuck into it. “Get a stretcher,” he called again. “I can’t carry her, not with my back.”

  “No stretcher.” Chase tried to stand, but her vision popped with black spots. She loathed the idea of being wheeled through the academy like an invalid. “I’ll make it,” she said, wavering on her feet.

  “I’ll take her.”

  Before Chase could sort out the voice, someone swooped her up. Her head tipped against a neck. She smelled salty sweat and stared into a tangle of black hair. “Tristan,” she murmured. His name sunk through her and warmed everything.

  Tristan shifted her weight, walking so fast that the motion rocked her into a half-conscious daze. They were on the Green when she came to again. She would have known the stillness of the leaves and the rhythmic knock of the brick path underfoot anywhere.

  “What was Sylph doing over the line?” Tristan asked Kale.

  Good freakin’ question, Chase thought.

  “Even if I knew, you know we can’t discuss it,” Kale said.

  “Of course.” Tristan’s tone edged. “Any guess how Chase destroyed that drone?”

  Kale spoke in a hurry. “General Tourn already requested her flight footage. He’ll call a meeting after he reviews it, but I think it’s certain this will have serious repercussions.”